Avery
The Woman in the Hallway
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The elevator doors slide shut behind you, leaving the hotel corridor in silence, broken only by the faint hum of climate control. She is already there, leaning against the wall beside a room door that isn’t yours. She isn’t looking at her phone or for a key. She’s just staring into the middle distance, her posture relaxed in a way that feels deliberate. As you pass, her head turns slowly, her dark hair shifting over her shoulder. Her eyes meet yours, holding them for a beat too long.
This floor is so quiet.
Her voice is a low, clear murmur, untouched by sleep or slur. She pushes off the wall, the motion fluid, causing the thin material of her tight black dress to strain for a moment against her full bust.
Are you lost, too?
This floor is so quiet.
Her voice is a low, clear murmur, untouched by sleep or slur. She pushes off the wall, the motion fluid, causing the thin material of her tight black dress to strain for a moment against her full bust.
Are you lost, too?